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volume ii. | £ iFawUfi Jletosimgev : ©cfootetr to ZUter&ture, &flr(cttlturc, Jttecfwnfes, £mt cation, jForrtjjii aufc ©omestCc StttelUjietice, scc- j number 13.
BY €. R. HANLEITER.
IP ® E Y 03 Y ■
Much yet remains unsung'’
(£/“ The following exquisite little gem of
poetry was written for a recent celebration
in Boston, by M. 11. Wetherbee, a hard
working stone-cutter:
God’s spirit smiles in flow’rs,
And in soft summer show’rs,
He sends his love.
Each dew-drop speaks His praise,
And bubbling fount displays,
In all their lucid rays,
Light from above.
The tiny vines that ertep
Along the raviness steep
Obey Ilis nod.
The golden orb of day.
And ocean's created spray
To Him due homage pny—
Creation’s God.
Thus Friendship wears its bloom,
And smiles beyond the tomb,
In its own light.
O may that Love be ours,
Which gilds life's darkest hours,
Cheering like smiling flow’rs,
Hope's deepest night.
#[£lL[E©Y[£[S) YALESa
MARIA OF MEISSEN.
Maria of Meissen was beautiful even
among the beautiful : I knew her well.
The women of Saxony are famed for love
liness throughout all Germany ; those of
Meissen are considered more fair than even
‘the ladies of Dresden : and, by common
consent, Maiia was distinguished among
Them bv the flattering title of Maria of Meis
sen. I would not dwell on this had it been
her only, or her highest distinction ; but,
united as it was with the ornament of a
meek and quiet spirit, and with all those
graces given to the prayers of her parents
•and to her own, I do look upon her as one,
Who presented, on this our miserable earth,
the nearest approach to that which the mind
conceives of the angelic aspect.
To this Maria, Baron Altenberg, then co
lonel of a regiment of Saxon cavalry, was
very devotedly attached. Their courtship
xvas not a courtship; it was an intercourse
of more than a year’s duration : but the
word “ love” never passed the colonel’s lips.
They met repeatedly in society; he visited
upon an intimate footing at the house of her
father, who was a retired counsellor of state,
living on a provision, not indeed affluent,
Rut very sufficient to secure all the comforts,
and some of tlie elegancies of life. Maiia
was his only daughter by his first wife: by
his second, he had five children. They
were, at the time of which I speak, the el
dest a girl of sixteen, the rest school-boys.
Maria herself was a woman of five-and
tvventy ; living with her step-motlier upon
the happy footing of an attached younger
sister, and being to the young family a se
cond and more lively mother; for she was
a very rare combination of the most anima
ted cheerfulness, and of the most still trans
parent modesty.
I remember, the night before Altenberg’s
regiment marched for some distant and ac
tive service, meeting him at her father s at a
private concert. He was himself a very
fine performer on several instruments; a
man of exquisite taste ; felt music deeply ;
hut did not over, either by words of extrava
gance, or passionate gestures, betray bis
feelings; oil the contrary, he was a man of
calm, composed, governed manners. He
boro the very highest reputation as an en
terprising, intelligent commandei of horse,
with his general; while his cool, patient,
equable temper, —his mild but firm disci
pline, had universally endeared him both to
the officers and men, who had the good for
tune to serve under him. Such a man was
Altenberg: I remember, as though it were
yester-evening, his sitting down to the piano :
Sto accompany Maria in a song. He had ve
,ry often done the same thing before, and I
thought nothing of it. I had often been
seated, as I was that night, in a position,
‘from whence I could command both their
faces in profile, for it was always a delight
to me to mark the expressive countenance
of Maria as she sung. Her eyes were beau
itifuJJy large, shaped perfectly, and shaded
,witi Ion” and silken lashes more dark
ly-colored than her hair, whicli was very
fair, blight, and shining. But how may I
paint the beauty of her unconscious gazes;
now, as it were, on vacancy ; now, raised
in search of that heaven, where dwelt her
better affections; now, slow and kind around,
as she was yielding to the warm request
of admiring listeners ! Her nose was de
fined as you rarely see it, save on the statue,
and in the painting ; her complexion deli
cate, and, but for now and then fine faint
suffusions, pale. I see her now —I hear her
now. She sung, as she ever did, melodi
ously, movingly. I was wrapt in happy
contemplation : I had heard Altenberg oc
casionally sing himself, but not often ; that
evening, after she had given two or three
sweet airs, I heard him say to her, Maiia, j
we march to-morrow : have you ever heard
this little song ? Listen.” She still stood by
him at the instrument—they two together.
So low lie song, that no ears but mine
“Alight the words ; to the rest of the com
compauyir.g touch, and the expression of
his fine tnanly eyes as they turned tenderly
upon her.
“ Thou may’s! lie loved by many,
But not with love by any
One half so true as mine ;
Some in their minds may bear thee,
Some in their hearts may wear thee,
But not with love like mine.”
She hung her lovely head. I could see
the quick mantling of her cheek with hon
est blushes. She was about to go when lie
had finished. 1 heatd him say, “ Stay, Ma
ria ; be seated : this is the most important
moment of my life.” The apartment was
large; the piano at the far end ; the com
pany sat apart; they knew not that any one
was within hearing. I felt this, and with
drew ; but my eyes wandered back. I saw
Maria sink gently down on the music stool
by his side ; though I could not distinctly
see it, I was sure his hand was pressing
herewith fondness. I was sure that he was
asking that strange and fateful question,
which, as it is heard and answered, colors
two human lives for their earthly future. 1
knew by the very movement of her cheek
and hair ; by the way she rose tip, and came
back to her place ; by the sweet thoughtful
ness, that, like a white fleecy cloud upon
the moon, veiled with a fresh grace her
chaste countenance ; by the gaze too of true
compassion, which she cast on one of whom
she was well aware that he vainly but fond
ly doted on her; I knew that Altenberg
had been listened to, as lovers wish to be,
and would be happy.
Altenberg was a man some twelve nr
fourteen years older than Maria, a sterling
character, a man of solid piety and serene
virtue, not parading his opinions, but obey
ing the spirit which had given him bis prin
ciples. Therefore, though nothing could
he more opposite to his principles than to
value his own merits, or attach the slightest
importance to his good works, he did as
much good as lie could, as an appointed
means of grace ; and he got the good man’s
reward : he was satisfied from himself. I
myself was old enough to be the father of
Maria, and though, as my words may have
betrayed, I entertained a fond admiration i
for her, yet was it of an anxious parental
character, and I was most heaitily rejoiced
when I found that she was avowedly bc
tvotbed to so excellent and exemplary a
man as Altenberg. He was absent for two
years. Ah ! how Maria shone as a betroth
ed 1 At no period of her life had she toler
ated, and with her charms, it was impossi
ble to avoid unconsciously inflicting those
sad and sweet wounds or. some which they
would vainly cherish to their own hurt anil
her disturbance ; and yet, as I look back,
how wonderfully she ruled the various spir
its that came round about her, by single
mindedness, by simplicity, by maiden com
posure ! She seemed a wife in all “ seren
ity of affection” long before she was one.
At last Altenberg and his brave diagoons
returned. They marched in in the month
of June, 1813, just after the conclusion of
the famous armistice between Napoleon and
the Allied Sovereigns. It was to last two
months; and Altenberg urged the father of
Maria, who had stipulated that the marriage
should not take place till the war was at an
end, to consent to their immediate union.
If, said Altenberg, we are to have peace,
this armistice is the foretaste and spring of
it; if not, the war may ho long and bloody,
and such a quiet breathing-time may not
soon again recur. The reasons were weigh
ty ; and though Maria never urged them,
yet it was easy for her father, in her silence,
to discover her wishes. He consented.
Many a wedding have I seen, but such a
one as that of Maria of Meissen never be
fore, nor am I likely to see such a one again.
Her image seemed to the inhabitants in
terwoven alike with their joys and sorrows.
The smile of Maria was a sort of light, that
when she came abroad and had aught to do
in the streets or shops, gave a gladdening
influence, and begat good humor and kind
words ; and her sigh, when she entered the
house of mourning or poverty, lifted £ load
off’the oppressed hearts of those with whom
she sympathised, and made them gather out
of the heap of their afflictions one white
stone —the visit of such an angel—the know
ing her—hearing her—being touched by
her—soothed—read to—prayed with — re
lieved by her ; and the received hope, that
they should know her for ever in another
and a better world. It was quite vain,
therefore, to attempt a private wedding.
All that was done to secure it failed. Be
fore sunrise, on the appointed morning, the
sexton, no ways reluctant, was forced to
open the doors of the small Lutherian church
in the suburb, in which the ceremony was
to take place; and, in less than one hour, it
was converted into a vast and verdant bow
er, gay with flowers, and fragrant with per
fume.
In Saxony we follow’ gladly the good old
rulos ; and, whenever we can, wc make the
most *f a wedding. Marriage is honorable
—a sainted holiday in life—a day for “ mirth
and gladness”—a day for “ charity and
brotherly love— rejoicing and pleasure—
peace and society”—a day to be much ob
served. To return : when the simple pro
cession of Maria’s wedding reached the Gate
ofthe Garden of Graves, in which thechurch
stands, twelve virgins of Meissen met it,
with baskets of flowers in their hands; and
i they walked before the bride up the avenue 1
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 24, 1843.
of limes, strewing flowers in her path, and
singing a holy hymn.
The church was crowded. According to
our custom, the fair locks of Maria were
adorned with a coronal of virgin roses ; and
never did a lovelier bride or worthier bride
groom approach the altar. Their hearts
were well allied. It was no hasty love, to
hear for its bitter fruit a long repentance.
The responces—l hear their tremulous
tones even now —when the nuptial baud
was tiod, —the hymn of that assembled
crowd rose slow, and solemn, and prayerful
—the holy harmony—the happy sadness—
smiles of such strange expression—and
sighs—and tears : that moment is never to
be forgotten. At last they came forth, and
the bells rang merily out, and the eun shone.
How very bright it shone !
I was not fur from the happy couple, as
they walked down to the open barouche at
the Gate. To look on them was to learn
that marriage was a divine institution, a
“ Holy order ! bliss bestowing,
Ilenvcnborn.”—
They seemed as though they were conscious
of the presence of the Holy One who had
joined them—as if they solemnly and calm
ly felt that they were united for ever.
Near the carriage-steps there kneeled
two poor families of Moravians, who had
been driven fiom their peaceful settlement
by the events of war, and had found shelter
in Mqjssen through the kind influence and
and continued service of Maria. They did
not look at her, but fixed their eyes intent
on Heaven. One little girl of these fami
lies alone stood up, and came forward, and
presented to each of them a small book of
music, covered with white silk, containing,
as Maiia well knew, a selection from the
Hymns of the United Brethren. These
gifts were received with a reverent delight
by both, and with a Christian expression of
their thanks.
Home they drove, through blessings, fol
lowed by blessings. As they passed the
quarters of the troops, Alfenberg’s second |
in command had prepared him a parade of
honor. His brave dragoons were drawn up
dismounted, and saluted him with those
swords, peaceably dropped before him with
which, there was scarce a man among
them not ready to defend him or Maria to
the death.
The wedding-feast was on a lawn, with
a table for poor guests, and another for chil
dren ; and the military band of Alfenberg’s
corps, and the vocal music of the best sing
ers in Meissen, did by turns relieve, each
other. And there was, after the custom,
dancing upon the lawn until the set of sun.
And so closed the lovely holiday.
Soon after, the regiment of Altenberg
was moved into Dresden. There, for a
month, l saw them, and was occasionally al
lowed the privilege of passing an evening
with them. How soon—how immediately
did Maria fall into the happy, home-loving,
domestic wife ! The one great holiday pas
sed, she put off the bride—was friend, com
panion, help.
It may seem strange, to some it may seem
a want of feeling, that I should thus dwell
upon all the qualities and perfections ofone
who is now no more; but of a truth it is
that her whole life, and all that part of mine
wherein it was given me to know her, was
soft and sunny;—a season of peace, and
pleasant words, and virtuous remembrances. I
The memory of her is bright, not sad. 1
know she is living—somewhere ; in holy
places beyond our ken. Her taking away |
was a mystery ; —hut is there not one event !
to all. The manner of it strange ; —hut j
what matters the where and the when ?
She crossed the narrow flood even at the ‘
narrowest point—the shadow of the valley >
of death rested on her but a moment—and
it was after every thing that earth could give
had crowned her virtuous and submitted 1
wishes, that she was transplanted to bloom
in a true paradise.
At the period of which I treat, that great !
enigma, Napoleon, was in Dresden. He |
had taken up his residence in the gardens
of Count Marcolini, a sequestered spot of j
shades and beauty, in the suburb of Fieder
ickstadt.
During the whole period of the armistice,
there was a glitter and tumult in the city
that very ill accorded with Maria’s notions
of life; but there was peace in the apart
ments of Altenberg, peace in the sound of
his voice, and in the whispers of her own
bosom.
“If,” (what a word that j/*is !) “ if,” said
Altenberg, “ this armistice should end in a
general and happy understanding ; if the
French retire beyond the Rhine, and this
detestable war and unnatural alliance cease,
I will resign, Maria, and take that farm of
Ulrich’s, near Meissen. It is a pretty peace
ful spot, and quite large enough for happi
ness.”
“Oh that it may so end!” she replied.
“ Oil that l might have you nil to myself in
so sweet a home ! I like not these wars—l
like not this Napoleon. Don’t you remem
ber, my dear Fredrick, those beautiful pas
sages vve read together the other evening,
Wallenstein ?—those sellings of the heart of
Max Picolominsi after peace and love—
that mourning dissatisfaction with which he
looks buck on the blood and toil in the path
he has been treading—those vivid pictures,
or visions rather, of countries through which
he passed ere the war had reached them ?”
I remember the earnest sincerity of her
; look and tone ; nor was Altenberg, though 1
an old and distinguished soldier, at all offen
ded at the citing of passages which went to
undervalue llio fame he had gotten in many
a well-tought field. On the contrary, he re
plied in the very words of the dramatist—
\ “ Most gladly would I give the blood-Btsined laurel
For ihe first violet of the leafless spring.
Pluck’d in those quiet vsles where I have journeyed.”
Yes, they were kindred spirits ; though, as
there they sat, he looked the old accustom
ed warrior, and she the delicate and tender
wrnian.
Every hour, during this period, there
were troops arriving and departing; par
ades, reviews; streets, squares, walk?, full
j of uniforms, and feathers of all colors wav
i iug in the wind.
One day, I recollect, we made an effort
and visited the picture gallery ; we could
j not rest ir. the desecrated spot five minutes
—the glory, and the magic, and the charms
had fled. There it hung, the famed Mad
onna ; hut a crowd of men stood about it, all
talking ; and iron-heels, and jinggling spurs,
and steel scabbards, ringing in your ears all
the while, “ Bulletin de la grand armee.” —
“ Victoires et con questes.” —“ Vive V Emper
cvr !”
We met the emperor as we returned
home : Maria had never yet seen him. He
was coming up the street ofPirna, on horse
: hack, at a foot-pace, several yards ahead of
his small suite. He seemed absorbed in
I thought. Just as they approached, his
horse fell with him. Altenberg ran forward
| to his assistance. He had already disenga
ged himself, and stood perfectly still and
calm. The animal lay some minutes, be
fore Altenberg, with the assistance of one
of Napolean’s equerries, could make it rise.
Contrary to his usual temper, the emperor
manifested no importance, took no interest
in his charger, nor noticed those who were
assisting. With a marble cheek and press
ed lips and a fixed eye, he stood lost to all
that was passing round him; until one of
his led horses was brought up from the rear
of the escort, which, with the same abstract
ed air, he slowly mounted, and then procee
ded forward at a walk, buried deep in syme
gloomy reflection.
We were all very much struck with this
incident. Maria was, for the whole even
ing, remarkably depressed. “He did not
look,” she said, “like a man ofonr earth :
he seemed like thesuhjectof somecold spell,
destined to the work of death and woe for
a season. He is our ally,” she added ;
“ hut his friendship has brought to our beau
tiful Saxony the cup of trembling. Oh, Al
tenberg ! my heart misgives me.”
“ My love,” he replied, taking her hand
affectionately in his, “ you must not be so
weak : remember you are the wife of a sol
dier. and you must not indulge in vague and
idle fears. If, and remember there is the
same Providence upon the most confused
field of battle as in the most secure and
peaceful hamlet, if I am taken from you,
you would not be left alone. I leave you
not alone, my love. Come, dear, play me
one of these sacred melodies.”
“ This is good music—excellent!” he
continued, reading over the bars. “ Come ;
—and the words ate better ; let us sing it.”
“ Author of the whole creation.
Light of light,eternal Word !
Soul ami body's preservation
I commit to thee, O Lord !
When I clusc mine eyes in slumber,
And my enses arc asleep.
Let my waking heart ihe number
Os my mercies tell and keep :
F ill me with thy sacred love,
That I dream of things abovt.’’
They sang this hymn together. I sooth
ed as l left them. The next morning was
the day appointed to be kept as the birth
day of Napoleon. There was a brilliant re
view in the wood of Ostra. Altenberg de
puted me, as an old and intimate friend of
the family, to accompany Maria in his ba
rouche to the ground. I was present with
her when the troops defiled before the em
peror. Napoleon passed our carriage, as
he returned from an inspection of the line,
to take post. He rode at a smatt gallop,
followed bv the King of Saxony, and the
princes of that house. We only caught his
face for a moment; it looked grave and
awfnl as marble. Though not near etiough
to mark his features while the troops were
defiling past him, the motions of his head
and hand indicated fatigue and impatience, j
lie appeared unquiet, and every thing
seemed to Lire rather than please him.
The assembled force, consisted of all
arms, cavalry aud infantry, varying in their
dress and appointments—cuirassiers, carbi
neers, dragoons, chasseurs, hussars, grena
diers, voltigeurs? yagers and a small body of
Mamelukes—presented a most magnificent
ami splendid spectacle, as they broke into
columns, and so filed past, withtheir banners
and eaglet, standards and pennons, all glan
cing to tits sun and spreading to the breeze.
They moved to the animating sound of loud
and stirring music. The citizens forgot all ;
care and tear in admition of the glorious ;
show. I was exceedingly impressed and 1
interested myself, and so was Maria.
Tbo regiment of Altenberg. being in the
left wing, was one of the last that marched
past ; the defilement of the force commen
cing and closing with cavalry. At the head
of a brigade, composed of the cuirassiers of
Zastrow and his own corps, rode Altenberg,
upon a stately black horse. The day was
uncommonly fine and bright; but yet I
knew not how it was, cettainly Altenberg
looked very pale ; —soldierly as any there
—but sad ami grave. And theie was some
thing of a sternness in the melancholy of his
visage, the expression of which was perhaps
increased by the brazen scales of his hel
met, which hung down on either cheek, and
weie fastened by a clasp l>etieath the chin.
Altenberg, gave one glance at the car
riage as he rode past. There was a shade
of thdught came over the expressive
lenatice of Maria. As the rear squadron of
the cuirassiers passed on, and the trumpets
of Altenberg’s own regiment blew out, I
was myself struck with a something peculiar
and painful in the tones ; —piercing they
were—haughty and harsh, —ihey stirred
the bosom with menence, and breathed
shrill defiance, as though it were a day of
battle. The effect upon Maria was instan
taneous ; she sunk back, all color forsook
her cheek, her eyes became dim and wan
dered; and she requested me to order the
coach home.
In the evening, Altenberg affectionately
rallied her upon her faintheartedness, and
she pretended to laugh at her silly fears.
By the next day, the strange and sickly im
pression on her m’ltd seemed to have en
tirely yielded to her good sense, to conver
sation that diverted her thoughts, sunshine,
and, above all, to a most implicit trust in the
goodness and wisdom of an over ruling Pro
vidence.
On the night of the fifteenth the French
ambassador returned from Prague ; the em
peror left Dresden fer Silesia, and war was
no longer doubtful.
The morning of the twenty-fourth brought
to Maria the fiist dreaded separation from
her Altenberg. That day, and the days that
followed, I never can forget. From her
faithful attendant, from my own observation
at other moments, and from another source,
those sufferings of dear Maria, which ended
in so calamitous a manner, arc minutely
known to me.
I visited her soon after breakfast that i
morning, and fiom time to time throughout
the day. It was rumored in the city, that
the combined armies of Russia and Austria
were advancing from the frontiers of Bohe
mia in prodigious strength ; and that the
Fienclt and Saxon force left for the protec
tion of Drcsdemwas quite unequal to any
effectual resistance, though it was well
known they would make a brave effort to
defend Dresden. The day was long, blank,
never ending : —no news from the advan
ced posts :—bustle and movement in all the
streets: —business and pleasure alike at a
stand. The inhabitants stood about in whis
pering clusters; ’twas not a moment for
buying and selling, marrying or giving in
marriage ; contrasting with the anxious va
cancy of the citizens was the ready and
rough alertness of the soldiery. Here mus
tered a detachment—there rumbled a train
of wagons ; here galloped an orderly—
there moved a working party ; —but no
news from the advanced posts—nothing
known, but that the enemy was advancing.
Maria struggled to be calm, and with suc
cess ; hut she was quite unequal to conver
sation.
I called on her the next morning at an
early hour : she had evidently not slept,
and looked very ill. Nothing more was
known than the day before ; —it was a long
blank morning. She could not of course
talk much, though 1 made art effort to en
gage her in conversation of a hopeful and
comforting strait), but her attention was
away. Every minute she rose—every min
ute she walked to the window. 1 remem- I
her the poor angel seemed much distressed,
and very nervous this day at the ticking of
the clock—and it sounded very solemn :
the hand of the clock moved on, tick—tick
—tick, a voice unnoted when we are happy,
and at ease; hut in periods of silent trial,
when fear ar.d hope, doubt and suspense
are our companions, each vibration reaches
to the heart’s core.
In the afternoon some prisoners were
sent in,—fietce-looking, bushy-bearded Cos
sacks.
“Is Baron Altenberg well ?” I heard
Maria call aloud, and I ran to her at the
window. “He is well, lady, and the heavy
horse will not lie half a league off to-night,”
replied a soldier of his corps, leading a
wounded horse in company with his escort.
Maria ran into her chamber, staid a few
minutes, and came out again smiling through
scarce-dried tears. I persuaded her to
take some refteshment, and made her pro
mise to go quietly to lest: she ate with ap
petite and even cheerfulness.
Before the dawn of day on the twenty
sixth was heard that heart-depressing sound,
with which we peaceful citizens of Germa
ny are too well and too painfully acquainted
—the report of cant ton in the direction of
Pima. The sound was dull, and seemed
more distant than it was ; but it fell heavy
upon Maria’s heart, and she walked up
and down the room in silence. After a
while the firing became louder, quicker,and
musketry might he distinguished. There
was a cry, “ The Prussians are in the Gros
sest Garten!” The inhabitants were clasp
ing their hands in the street, and resigning
themselves to the most terrible apprehen
sions. At the very moment when they ex
pected to see the allies within the walls in
arms, and the city at their mercy, column
upon column poured over the bridges on
the Elbe, aud Napoleon, that stem child of
destiny, rode smiling at theii head ; and on
every side was heard again, “Vive Napo
\VM. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR.
leon !”—“ Vive l’Emperetir I” Safety and
’ victory seemed identified with his
and Maria, that feared him, and had shud
dered at him, thought of Altenberg, and
waved her white handkerchief from the win
dow, and cried aloud, “Vive Napoleon}”
For a while her spirits rose*. “It will
soon be over,” we said, and thought, as we
saw corps after corps of the finest Fronoh
troops defiling to the suburbs. The dispo
sitions of the Emperor were soon madip,
and at the end of about three hours the en
emy completed theirs, and made their grand
attack, The whole city shook— the can
nonade was awful — hundreds of cannot*
were in hot and incessant play — no pausfi—
death in every discharge— death in every
echo; and it lasted on — on — hour after
hour. No news from the field, though
slightly-wounded men, with bandaged arms
and heads, came dropping into the city fast
towards evening. Maria and 1 were at the
window : as a party passed by, a shell fell
among them ; and a young grenadier of
the imperial guard, with a bandaged arm,
was slain before our eyes in that place tbit
seemed so safe. From this moment Mam
would not leave the window. The thought
of Altenberg exposed, amid the drea’d
thunder to which she listened, to such a
death as this she saw, was not endurable in
perfect safety. She seemed glad to feel
that there was some exposure, some person
al insecurity for her ; and she leaned out of
the open window, listening to the fearful
sounds, and faking no count of time. The
merciful night came. The allies, repulsed
at all points, retired ; the firing ceased ;
and rain began to fall upon the field of bat
tle, and upon the wakeful and frightened
city. It poured in torrents, pitiless and
chill. Just after dark came an orderly dra
goon ; he was not heard till he was already
on the staircase ; Maria rushed out— no, it
was not Altenberg. She had well high
fainted: “From the Colonel, lady,” (and
he gave a slip of paper.) She dropped
upon her knees there, on the staircase, afi'd
thanked God, with streaming eyes :—“ Ma
ria—all well. Be calm, love, and don’t atif
abroad.—Altenberg.”
She was very happy: enough could hot
be done for the soldier who brought netfs
of Altenbcrg’s safety ; and he was fed and
refreshed as though it had been Altenberg
himself. Maiia thought all was over; but
all night there was a tumult in the streets—
wagons in motion, rolling along sullen in the
rain, and cursing drivers, and swearing
# troopers, seeking to make their way past
them, and often mingling with these sounds
the groans of the wounded brought into the
city for help and shelter. She begged m#
not to leave her—she walked about the
drawing room where we sat. “ What,”
said she, “is it not finished ? Shall to-thofc
row be like to-day ? Is this dreadful work
to last forever? Altenberg in it again
morrow ! who can escape ? How shall I eh
dure ?”
The morning came—rain falling in tor
rents —every object, every person in the
street drenched and drippitig. About sevetfi
the sound of cannonade, not very loud, nbt
rapid firing. It came to us, apparently;
fiom a greater distance than that of yesbet
day, and the report was muffled, as it Wtehe,
by the heavy and damping tain ; but fob all
this, it was, though less terrific, yet tnhre
mournful, than the loud and roaring thtitider
of the day before; it spoke equally of death,
and the rain fell cold upon the listener'*
hopes; moreover, time seemed to move
slower. Mai ia was pale as pity ; hour af
ter hour crept tedious by—the dealh-work
was going on : her Altenberg, her ail-, wae
in the midst of it :
“If he lived,
She knew not that he lived; if be were dead.
She knew not he was dc-ad.”
About two in the afternoon, white I was
absent from her trying to gain some intelli
gence, it chanced, as iter woman Void her,
that an orderly trooper riding down the
street was stopped and questioned hear tha
window by some inhabitant. She caught
the word “ Zastrow:” “ Any hews,” she
asked, “ of the Altenberg dragoons, or the
regiment, Zastrow ?”
“Btave news, lady.” said the trooper:
“ they have made the most glorious charges
ever seen against an Austrian division near
Rossthal, and taken all, save those their
swords have accounted for.”
“ How is Altenberg ? safe ahd well I”
“ I don’t know; but there's enough of
his brave fellows stretched stifc—as like he,
as any : he is always in the thick of the
business. 1 sow hitn lead up the charge;
and break pell-mell through thiee Austrian
squares, one after another.”
Maria, when she heard this, could rest
no longer still: she took her cloak, and put
its hood over her heed and face, and away
in all the crowd ancl the rain for the field of
battle.
She had not left the house ten minutes
when I returned to it. Alarmed for her
safety, l hurried after her; I traced bar to
the Falcon hairier. I went to the great re
doubt near the spot, aud I remember seeing
Napoleon standing at a bivouac-fire, rub
bing his bauds, and smiling ; immediately
near him, from the newly-turned earth, pro
truded the legs and arms of the dead, wbo’
had bean hastily interred after tbe combat
of yesterday.
I asked ofle of the orderlies if be bad
seen a lady pass that way ?
the man laughed in my face. “A lady!”